The Dog Crusoe and His Master: A Story of Adventure in the Western Prairies, - [books for new readers .TXT] 📗

paralyzed, and soon falls
to rise no more.

Cameron set his traps towards evening in a circle
with a bait in the centre, and then retired to rest.
Next morning he called Joe Blunt, and the two went
off together.

"It is strange that these rascally white wolves should
be so bold when the smaller kinds are so cowardly,"
remarked Cameron, as they walked along.

"So 'tis," replied Joe; "but I've seed them other
chaps bold enough too in the prairie when they were
in large packs and starvin'."

"I believe the small wolves follow the big fellows,
and help them to eat what they kill, though they
generally sit round and look on at the killing."

"Hist!" exclaimed Joe, cocking his gun; "there he
is, an' no mistake."

There he was, undoubtedly. A wolf of the largest
size with one of his feet in the trap. He was a terrible-looking
object, for, besides his immense size and naturally
ferocious aspect, his white hair bristled on end and
was all covered with streaks and spots of blood from
his bloody jaws. In his efforts to escape he had bitten
the trap until he had broken his teeth and lacerated his
gums, so that his appearance was hideous in the extreme.
And when the two men came up he struggled with all
his might to fly at them.

Cameron and Joe stood looking at him in a sort of
wondering admiration.

"We'd better put a ball in him," suggested Joe after
a time. "Mayhap the chain won't stand sich tugs long."

"True, Joe; if it break, we might get an ugly nip
before we killed him."

So saying Cameron fired into the wolf's head and
killed it. It was found, on examination, that four
wolves had been in the traps, but the rest had escaped.
Two of them, however, had gnawed off their paws and
left them lying in the traps.

After this the big wolves did not trouble them again.
The same afternoon a bear-hunt was undertaken, which
well-nigh cost one of the Iroquois his life. It happened
thus:--

While Cameron and Joe were away after the white
wolves, Henri came floundering into camp tossing his
arms like a maniac, and shouting that "seven bars wos
be down in de bush close by!" It chanced that this
was an idle day with most of the men, so they all leaped
on their horses, and taking guns and knives sallied forth
to give battle to the bears.

Arrived at the scene of action, they found the seven
bears busily engaged in digging up roots, so the men
separated in order to surround them, and then closed in.
The place was partly open and partly covered with
thick bushes into which a horseman could not penetrate.


The moment the bears got wind of what was going
forward they made off as fast as possible, and then commenced
a scene of firing, galloping, and yelling that
defies description! Four out of the seven were shot
before they gained the bushes; the other three were
wounded, but made good their retreat. As their places
of shelter, however, were like islands in the plain, they
had no chance of escaping.

The horsemen now dismounted and dashed recklessly
into the bushes, where they soon discovered and killed
two of the bears; the third was not found for some
time. At last an Iroquois came upon it so suddenly
that he had not time to point his gun before the bear
sprang upon him and struck him to the earth, where it
held him down.

Instantly the place was surrounded by eager men; but
the bushes were so thick, and the fallen trees among
which the bear stood were so numerous, that they could
not use their guns without running the risk of shooting
their companion. Most of them drew their knives and
seemed about to rush on the bear with these; but the
monster's aspect, as it glared around, was so terrible that
they held back for a moment in hesitation.

At this moment Henri, who had been at some distance
engaged in the killing of one of the other bears, came
rushing forward after his own peculiar manner.
"Ah! fat is eet--hay? de bar no go under yit?"

Just then his eye fell on the wounded Iroquois with
the bear above him, and he uttered a yell so intense in
tone that the bear himself seemed to feel that something
decisive was about to be done at last. Henri
did not pause, but with a flying dash he sprang like a
spread eagle, arms and legs extended, right into the
bear's bosom. At the same moment he sent his long
hunting-knife down into its heart. But Bruin is proverbially
hard to kill, and although mortally wounded,
he had strength enough to open his jaws and close them
on Henri's neck.

There was a cry of horror, and at the same moment
a volley was fired at the bear's head; for the trappers
felt that it was better to risk shooting their comrades
than see them killed before their eyes. Fortunately
the bullets took effect, and tumbled him over at once
without doing damage to either of the men, although
several of the balls just grazed Henri's temple and
carried off his cap.

Although uninjured by the shot, the poor Iroquois
had not escaped scathless from the paw of the bear.
His scalp was torn almost off, and hung down over his
eyes, while blood streamed down his face. He was
conveyed by his comrades to the camp, where he lay
two days in a state of insensibility, at the end of which
time he revived and recovered daily. Afterwards when
the camp moved he had to be carried; but in the course
of two months he was as well as ever, and quite as fond
of bear-hunting!

Among other trophies of this hunt there were two
deer and a buffalo, which last had probably strayed from
the herd. Four or five Iroquois were round this animal
whetting their knives for the purpose of cutting it up
when Henri passed, so he turned aside to watch them
perform the operation, quite regardless of the fact that
his neck and face were covered with blood which flowed
from one or two small punctures made by the bear.

The Indians began by taking off the skin, which
certainly did not occupy them more than five minutes.
Then they cut up the meat and made a pack of it, and
cut out the tongue, which is somewhat troublesome, as
that member requires to be cut out from under the jaw
of the animal, and not through the natural opening of
the mouth. One of the fore legs was cut off at the
knee joint, and this was used as a hammer with which
to break the skull for the purpose of taking out the
brains, these being used in the process of dressing and
softening the animal's skin. An axe would have been
of advantage to break the skull, but in the hurry of
rushing to the attack the Indians had forgotten their
axes; so they adopted the common fashion of using the
buffalo's hoof as a hammer, the shank being the handle.
The whole operation of flaying, cutting up, and packing
the meat did not occupy more than twenty minutes.
Before leaving the ground these expert butchers treated
themselves to a little of the marrow and warm liver in
a raw state!

Cameron and Joe walked up to the group while they
were indulging in this little feast.

"Well, I've often seen that eaten, but I never could
do it myself," remarked the former.
"No!" cried Joe in surprise; "now that's oncommon
cur'us. I've lived on raw liver an' marrow-bones for
two or three days at a time, when we wos chased by the
Camanchee Injuns an' didn't dare to make a fire; an' it's
ra'al good, it is. Won't ye try it now?"

Cameron shook his head.

"No, thankee; I'll not refuse when I can't help it,
but until then I'll remain in happy ignorance of how
good it is."

"Well, it is strange how some folk can't abide anything
in the meat way they ha'n't bin used to. D'ye
know I've actually knowed men from the cities as
wouldn't eat a bit o' horseflesh for love or money.
Would ye believe it?"

"I can well believe that, Joe, for I have met with
such persons myself; in fact, they are rather numerous.
What are you chuckling at, Joe?"

"Chucklin'? If ye mean be that 'larfin in to myself,'
it's because I'm thinkin' o' a chap as once comed out to
the prairies."

"Let us walk back to the camp, Joe, and you can
tell me about him as we go along."

"I think," continued Joe, "he comed from Washington,
but I never could make out right whether he wos
a Government man or not. Anyhow, he wos a pheelosopher--a
natter-list I think he call his-self--"

"A naturalist," suggested Cameron.

"Ay, that wos more like it. Well, he wos about six
feet two in his moccasins, an' as thin as a ramrod, an' as
blind as a bat--leastways he had weak eyes an' wore
green spectacles. He had on a gray shootin' coat an'
trousers an' vest an' cap, with rid whiskers an' a long
nose as rid at the point as the whiskers wos."

"Well, this gentleman engaged me an' another hunter
to go a trip with him into the prairies, so off we sot one
fine day on three hosses, with our blankets at our backs--we
wos to depend on the rifle for victuals. At first I
thought the natter-list one o' the cruellest beggars as
iver went on two long legs, for he used to go about
everywhere pokin' pins through all the beetles an' flies
an' creepin' things he could sot eyes on, an' stuck them
in a box. But he told me he comed here a-purpose to
git as many o' them as he could; so says I, 'If that's it,
I'll fill yer box in no time.'

"'Will ye?' says he, quite pleased like.

"'I will,' says I, an' galloped off to a place as was
filled wi' all sorts o' crawlin' things. So I sets to work,
an' whenever I seed a thing crawlin' I sot my fut on it
an' crushed it, an' soon filled my breast pocket. I
cotched a lot o' butterflies too, an' stuffed them into my
shot-pouch, an' went back in an hour or two an' showed
him the lot. He put on his green spectacles an' looked
at them as if he'd seen a rattlesnake.

"'My good man,' says he, 'you've crushed them all
to pieces!'

"'They'll taste as good for all that,' says I; for
somehow I'd taken't in me head that he'd heard o' the
way the Injuns make soup o' the grasshoppers, an' wos
wantin' to try his hand at a new dish!

"He laughed when I said this, an' told me he wos
collectin' them to take home to be looked at. But that's
not wot I was goin' to tell ye about him," continued
Joe; "I wos goin' to tell ye how we made him eat
horseflesh. He carried a revolver, too, this natter-list
did, to load wi' shot as small as dust a'most, an' shoot
little birds with. I've seed him miss birds only three
feet away with it. An' one day he drew it all of a suddent an' let fly
at a
big bum-bee that wos passin',
yellin' out that it wos the finest wot he had iver seed.
He missed the bee, of coorse, 'cause it wos a flyin' shot,
he said, but he sent the whole charge right into Martin's
back--Martin was my comrade's name. By good luck
Martin had on a thick leather coat, so the shot niver
got the length o' his skin."

"One day I noticed that the natter-list had stuffed
small corks into the muzzles of all the six barrels of his
revolver. I wondered what they wos for, but he wos
al'ays doin' sich queer things that I soon forgot it.
'Maybe,' thought I, jist before it went out o' my mind--'maybe
he thinks that'll stop the pistol from goin'
off by accident;' for ye must know he'd let it off three
times the first day by accident, an' well-nigh blowed
off his leg the last time, only the shot lodged in the
back o' a big toad he'd jist stuffed into his breeches
pocket. Well, soon after we shot a buffalo bull, so
when it fell, off he jumps from his horse an' runs up to
it. So did I, for I wasn't sure the beast was dead,
an' I had jist got up when it rose an' rushed at the
natter-list.

"'Out o' the way,' I yelled, for my rifle was empty;
but he didn't move, so I rushed for'ard an' drew the
pistol out o' his belt and let fly in the bull's ribs jist
as it ran the poor man down. Martin came up that
moment an' put a ball through its heart, an' then we
went to pick up the natter-list. He came to in a
little, an' the first thing he said was, 'Where's my revolver?'
When I gave it to him